


Vive la Révolution

by Kije999



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, French Revolution, Guillotine, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-25 08:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2615561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kije999/pseuds/Kije999
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s 1789 and the people of Paris are stirring up tension. The poor beg for food and start up insurrection in the streets of Paris. Bethany Marie de Billancourt grows up as nobility and has a good life. After an attack on their summer house in the end of July, Beth her life has been turned upside down at the hands of the revolution. Then in 1792, la Garde nationale storm into aristocrats houses and arrest the inhabitants. Her mother and brother got taken as her chambermaid Amy hides Beth in the closet under the staircase. Scared at the aftermath of the raiding, Beth is alone and scared. She ends up in the Rue des Francs-Bourgeuois and finds shelter in the house of the Family Grimes, who gives her a chance to rebuild her life. Soon enough, la Garde nationale hunts down all the aristocrats down to send them to the Guillotine and Rick calls in his good friend Daryl to smuggle the girl out of the country. Discontinued</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Uprising in the Marais

**Author's Note:**

> Hey new fanfic! First of all, it’s a pain to think up all the names and stuff… Because well, they all have English names and it plays in France, so I came up with a couple solutions, some of them have a French counterpart like Maggie’s full name can be Marguerite, Shawn becomes Jean etc. Annette was already a French name so that was easy. And others can be immigrants who came to France before the Revolution. Egh, I’m still working this whole thing out. Some of the street names and de Billancourt come from a book called The Guillotine by Simone van der Vlugt, which will be my reference for this.

**Paris, June 1789**

Bethany Marie de Billancourt sat in her carriage while her best friend and chambermaid Amélie talks excitedly towards her. She looks outside small window of the carriage and into Rue Faubourg St. Antoine in the Marais. It was a nice summer day at the end of June, the sun shone brightly down and the chatter of the people filled the streets.

Suddenly Amy gasps and tugs on her arm. "Oh no," she breathed. "An uprising!"

Beth looked out her window and looked back at the streets. At least a hundred people blocked the way of the carriage and unlike as usual, they didn't go out of the way. Worried, Beth stuck her head out of her window and ordered the coachman to turn around and go back to find another way, away from the uproar on the streets. The carriage turns around, slowly.

"Oh why can't he go faster," Amy frets, looking as she saw the peasants nearing the carriage.

"You know he can't turn around the carriage in one go, Amy," Beth bit her lip, she felt a nervous shiver run down her spine, she didn't dare to look the people in the eye.

"I know, mademoiselle," Amy sighs.

As the carriage fully turned around but halted again. "Oh dear, they are behind us as well!"

Once again, Beth gave orders to the coachman. They went into an alley, the street is narrow and how more they went into it, the narrower it became. The coachmen stopped the carriage, he could not go any further.

"What now?" fretted Amy as she looked through the back window, pushing the silk curtains open a little. "The yelling is getting louder."

Beth looks at her friend and bites her lip in concentration. "We have to go out, we have to walk back."

Amy's eyes widened. "Mademoiselle, that's dangerous! These people will tear at you like an animal!"

"Give me hand here, Amy." Beth quickly undressed herself to her underdress with the help of her friend and shook her hair loose from the tie, the blond locks fall over her shoulders and she pushed a ringlet of hair away from her forehead.

"Mademoiselle, you still don't look anything like them. Here," Amy pushed her dark cloak towards the transformed blonde. Beth took the cloak and placed it over her shoulder.

"Now come one," Amy grabbed her lady's hand tightly and led her through the alley back towards the large crowd.

It was chaotic, people begged for food.  _Oh, what are they thin_! Beth thinks as she looked at a woman in front of her whose bones poked through under her skin. Beth swallowed the gasp that formed into her throat. A loud scream broke her thoughts and she and Amy looked at the carriage in the narrow alley, numerous gamins jumped on top the carriage.

A sudden push send her to the muddy floor, she was sure she scraped her knee through the fabric of her skirts. Hastily she pulled herself up before she got trampled and pushed a fallen lock of hair out her face, smearing the muddy substance on her forehead and nose.

Beth hastily tried to tighten her grip on Amy's hand, but the hand was missing! Where's Amy, she panicked. She felt another bony hand push her in the back making her fall over. This time she fell on her elbows and she groaned in pain. She opened her eyes and stared at the wild, dark eyes of a woman that lay in front of her. She reeked of onions and garlic, everyone did. Beth panicked as she saw the woman look at her with suspicion. The blonde scrambled back on her feet before the woman could do something.

"Hey!" she heard the woman call back to her

She was pushed and pulled back, people were wild but were too much caught up in their own actions to suspect her. Beth saw a white fabric on the floor and grabbed it before she could get trampled on by the large crowd. It was a small, dirty bonnet that women wore. Grimacing she put the bonnet on her head, nearly gagging at the stench that emitted from the filthy piece of cloth. She pulled it far over her head and tightened the cloak around her shoulders, looking down, scared of looking those crazy people in the eye.

"We want food!"

"Give us bread!"

Through the crowd she was pushed in front of a bakery. People were yelling. Young man with large stones in their hands pushed passed her and old dirt hags carried axes and long pointy stick in their fists. They were yelling and screaming all kinds of vulgar things. Beth wanted to cover her ears. She wanted to cover her eyes. The people were so scrawny! She wanted to curl down and cry. She wanted to go home!

"Keep on walkin', girl!" she felt another push on her back, sending her forward. She grasped the cloth of a man's back, tearing the fabric. But the man didn't seem to care, too much caught up with his won business. She pulled herself up and dropped the fabric she had clutched in her hand.

The sound of glass shattering broke her thoughts. People were throwing stone at the window of the bakery! Kids, elder woman, men, everyone! A woman with dirty, greasy hair that hung down in ratty strings gave her a suspicious look, her bushy, unkempt eyebrows shot up in confusion. With shaking fingers Beth grabbed a stone that lay in front of her feet and threw it at the bakery. She closed her eyes, not wanted to see where the stone landed.

When she opened her eyes she saw the people barge into the store, not caring that the cut open their skin on the broken glass. They took banquettes and more kinds of bread from the store and dragged heavy sacks of flour outside. People flung on the sacks, tearing the apart. The streets were showered in the white substance. She was two dirty woman fight over one sack, clawing at each other's eyes and face. In the corner of her eye she saw an elder man getting trampled on. Beth gasped at the horror that played in front of her. She saw kids and woman drop on the floor to collect the flour from the ground, not caring that there was dirt in it. Beth dropped shakily on the floor, following their lead to prevent raising suspicion. She collected as much as she could in her skirt and whipped her dirty hand on her face and cloak.

A little further in the street she saw people barging in a weapon store and steal the guns and swords. Screaming, they run through Rue Faubourg St. Antoine, coated in white of the flour and weapons in their hand. Then she heard galloping horses, a little away from them she saw the guardsmen of the king waiting for the mad people. The insurgents greet them with their screaming and a rain of stones. A shot rang through the air, loud over the people. A soldier fell from his horse, hit dead on. A panic spread through the people, soldier and the insurgents, who started retreating from the guardsmen. They pulled their sabres from their sheath and raised them in the air, storming towards the insurgents. A loud screech came from the crowd, who started to scramble away from the guardsmen, everyone tried to get away. Fighting and pressing they fall over each other. Beth falls on the floor with a thud and scrambled back on her feet, only to trip over the corpse of a woman. A little blood drenched the white of her skirt as she got back up on her feet.

She crossed the street and an arm wraps her waist, pulling her into an alley. The alley was clear, the people kept fighting on the street. She turned around to see Amy who worriedly embraced her lady and Beth let her, she needed to comfort.

"Oh mademoiselle! I was so worried!" Amy cried and pulled back from the blonde.

Beth looked up to see who pulled her into the alley. It was a tall man with dark, slightly greasy hair that stopped above his shoulders, he was dressed suitably, although the fabric had seen better days. She whispered a merci to him and he nodded in return, his dark blue eyes staring into hers with a distrustful spark.

"Oh mademoiselle, you are bleeding!"

"Not mine," Beth rasped out, finally finding her voice.

Relief flooded over the older girl's face. "Oh thank God!"

"I hate to interrupt, but we have to go," the man spoke in broken French as he looked at the entrance of the alley, people started to fall into it.

Amy nodded and followed the man and pulled Beth with her, who still was shocked at today's events. Pulling herself together she walked a little faster to catch up with Amy.

"Who is he?" she whispered to her chambermaid.

Amy smiled. "Daryl's a friend of mine. He's from the United States."

That explained his accent, Beth frowned, she already thought something like that as she remembers her father's accent back when she was a child. They walked through the dark alleys, the sun hadn't gone down yet, but didn't provide the narrow space any of its last rays. Amy started talking to her, but Beth droned her out. She was so tired! Suddenly she spotted a figure laying on the ground.

"Wait," she called out and frowned as she walked towards the figure. She heard Amy hum and Daryl's heavy footsteps stopped.

She heard Amy's small feet walk over to her. "Mademoiselle, what are you doing?" she grasped Beth her arms who startled by the hand almost tripped over her feet.

"There is someone laying there," she huffed out.

Amy let out a louder gasp. "It's a little girl!"

The child's sleeve was drenched in red and her leg was laying limp near her in a weird angle. When Beth touched the leg gently, the little girl cried out in pain and started sobbing.

"I know her," she heard Amy whisper to herself.

Daryl too had walked over to the girls and knelt down to the little girl that lay on the floor. With gentle care he lifted the small child in his arms. She looked so tiny in the large man's arms, Beth noted. Amy pulled herself up from the ground and shushed the little girl.

"Judith, they won't hurt you," she heard the man speak to the child, his voice soft and gentle. A different tone than when he spoke to her, which was a little hostile as well.

"Judith?" Amy frowned. "Judith Grimes?"

The little girl nodded and sobbed, crying for her mother. She lay limply in Daryl's arms as the man spoke gentle words to the child, trying to calm her down.

Beth stared at the poor child, her heart ached to help. "Where does she live?" she asked.

"Rue Bourgeois," Daryl answered and started walking in big steps through the alley.

"Where's that?" Beth whispered to Amy.

"Close by," Amy sounded calm.

At the end of the alley, the light of a lantern was a blessing. They hurried through the streets and stopped in front of a little shop and Amy hastily knocked on the wooden door with her fist. Fast footsteps from inside hurried towards the door. "Who's there?"

"Daryl," he hoisted Judith up into a better position. "Open the door, Lori! I got Judy, she's hurt."

A loud cry from inside was heard as the woman opened the door.

"Oh Judy!" she grasped the little girl from Daryl's arms and cried into the girl's light brown hair. The dark haired woman looked up and saw the blond girls standing behind the large posture of Daryl. She looked at them in confusion.

"Bonsior, Lori," Amy greeted with a tiny trace of a smile.

"Amélie!"

Amy nodded. "We found Judith. This is mademoiselle de Billancourt."

Lori her eyes widened and tried to bow a little with her daughter in her arms. Beth feels a little out of place now and gives Lori a reassuring smile. Behind Lori a man with a light stubble appeared. He, too, looked at Amy and Daryl with surprise in his eyes.

"Amélie and Daryl found Judith, Rick," she tells her husband. "And… eh…. mademoiselle de Brancourt as well."

"De Billancourt," corrected Amy with a smile.

"Oh…"

"It's okay," Beth brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm glad we found you're daughter, I hope she isn't too much hurt."

"Merci, for finding her" Rick thanked as he gave a curt bow towards the noble. Beth nodded in return.

Lori walked further into the little house and beckoned them to follow her. "Please, come in."

Beth followed Amy silently. She felt unwelcome and unwanted. They stopped into the small living room joined by a smaller kitchen. Lori placed the small girl onto a battered sofa, one that has seen better days. The little girl cried to her mother, begging her to make the pain stop. Beth bit her lip as she looked at the unfortunate child.

Lori offered Beth one of the worn fauteuil that stood next to the hearth. Beth sat down, straight up and proper. Oh she was so tired, she looked at Amy who was helping the mother who dressed the little girl's wound on her shoulder. Poor thing lost too much blood, she thinks sombrely. Rick and Daryl stood in the entrance of the living room talking to each other. They spoke in English, both of them fluently. She understood them, her father thought her the language as well. She heard Daryl tell what happened in Rue Faubourg St. Antoine and in the corners of her eyes she saw Rick's face pale into a white shade.

Then the wooden front door opened with a creak and closed with a bang and a boy, no older than twelve entered the full living room. He looked confused at his mother who fretted over the child on the sofa. Then his eyes widened. "Judy!" He ran towards the little girl and plopped down next to his mother.

"What happened, Judy?"

"People were mad and fought," the child sobbed. "There were men on horses with swords, suddenly my arm hurt a lot and I fell."

Tears run down the girl's face and hysterically sobbed in her mother's chest, telling that a horse stepped on her leg and everything hurt so much. She couldn't walk, so she crawled towards the alley Beth found her.

"Wait, mademoiselle de Billancourt found her?" Lori asked, turning towards the young woman that sat awkwardly in the fauteuil.

"Oui, Madam," Amy piped up with a huge smile on her face. "She spotted Judith in the dark!"

Lori looked at Daryl, who gave her a blunt nod in return, confirming what Amy told her. She looked at Beth and smiled. "Merci beaucoup."

A couple moments later, Lori managed to calm down Judith and placed a small blanket over the little girl. She turned around to her husband. "She needs a doctor."

Rick nodded. "I'll try to find one."

"That's going to be hard, everyone needs a doctor at the moment," Daryl grunted in frustration.

"Judith needs one!" the boy piped up from his spot. "I'll help looking!"

"I'll search for one too," Daryl spoke. "But I have to escort mademoiselle de Billancourt and Amélie home first."

Lori looked at the tall man next to her husband and smiled gratefully while she stroked Judith's thin light ash brown hair. The little girl fell asleep, she had passed out after losing too much blood.

Rick guided them back from the door and bowed slightly as they left. Daryl guided them with Amy's instructions towards Rue de Varenne, where the residence of de Billancourt was located.

"How old is Judith?" Beth dared to ask, she wanted to know.

"Five," muttered Daryl when Amy didn't answer.

"What was she doing out there in the Marais?" Beth asked herself.

"Probably playing with her friends," reassured Amy who grasped Beth her hand in comfort.

They kept walking and it's now darkness swept completely over the sleeping city. _It must be very late_ , Beth guessed.  _Oh mama and papa must be so worried_. Beth hitched a breath to prevent sobbing. Fatigue and her sore muscles stressed her out. Amy halted Daryl, telling they were home. Daryl nodded and turned around to leave.

"Wait!" Beth called out and Daryl froze at her words but obeyed her, she was nobility after all. "Give me a minute."

Beth hurried inside to face her parents. Despite her own situation she was ready to ask her father if he could tend the poor little girl on Rue des Francs-Bourgeois.


	2. Inner Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth keeps getting haunted by her memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Daryl in this chapter, he'll return soon.  
> Anyway, this is kinda a filler chapter. I wanted to describe the people's position back then. The poverty and starvation and stuff.   
> I'm sick (splitting headache...), so there might be a couple of mistakes.
> 
> So I hope you enjoy!

Poissy, June 1789

Beth sat in the parlour of their summerhouse, comfortable buried in the soft, baby blue cushions of the fauteuil with her favourite book. Her mother sat across of her on the same colour sofa, drinking coffee out of a fine china cup. Her father sat next to her mother on the sofa, his nose buried in a medical book. She knew her brother was in his room, working on a letter to that girl in Prussia he met last year. Her sister was nowhere seen, probably riding on her horse, Claire. Maggie was always the wild one, Annette always had trouble raising that girl into a proper lady.

Beth flipped to the next page of her book as a maidservant asked her if she wanted some coffee. Beth smiled at the young woman and nodded. In response the maidservant poured some of the dark liquid in the porcelain cup, similar to the one her mother drank from. The cups was a present from a duchess from Austria and it was her mother’s favourite collection. Gold paint decorated the rim as various colours of pink, red and green paint decorated the white with flowers.

“Mademoiselle?” the maidservant addressed her. Beth looked at her with confusion, did she miss something? The young woman seemed to see her confusion and repeated her question. “Mademoiselle, would you like milk in your coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Beth dog-eared the page she was on and closed the book as the maidservant poured the milk into her coffee and took the saucer in her tiny hands. With shaking hands she gave the saucer and cup to Beth, who thanked her as the maidservant left. Beth took the handle of the cup and brought the cup towards her lips, taking a sip of the coffee.

It was quiet in the parlour, yet it wasn’t silent. The only noises that were heard were footsteps from above, birds chirping outside, the pages of her father’s book as he moved them. Just, nobody was speaking. The parlour door opened and closed with a slight thud, Maggie returned from her trip.

“Marguerite, why is your hair down?” her mother scolded, raising her voice slightly. Giving an unapprovingly glare to her stepdaughter’s long brown locks that fell over her shoulders.

Maggie shrugged and sat down on the fauteuil next her blond half-sister. “The ribbon got lose and pulled the pins out of it.”

Beth placed the chine she held in her hands down on the coffee table. “I could help Maggie with her hair.” She raised out of the chair and walked towards the doorframe and looked at Maggie with an innocent smile.

“Come on.”

Maggie nodded and hoisted herself from the chair following the blonde towards the brunette’s bedroom. Maggie sat down on the chair next to the bed, her back turned towards the blonde who sat down on the bed. The brunette handed Beth a brush and a navy coloured ribbon and a small box filled with hairpins. Beth placed the small box and on the bed and started brushing out the tangles in her sisters hair.

Beth placed the brush down and grabbed the ribbon. “What really happened to your hair, Maggie?” she asks softly as she tied the ribbon in her sister’s hair.

Maggie softly laughed. “You always see through my lies.”

“Papa does too, he just doesn’t ask any further when it doesn’t matter much. It was a white lie to maman,” Beth replied truthfully, pinning the brown locks up. “Now what happened?”

“Gave my ribbon and pins to a young girl in the village,” Maggie replied. “I don’t know how old she was, looked no older than fourteen.”

Beth nodded, even though Maggie can’t see her.

“She was so tiny,” Maggie whispered and turned around to face her sister with a troubled expression on her face. “So thin and meagre.”

“Like the people in the streets,” Beth looked down, the images of the events of Rue Faubourg St. Antoine fresh on her mind.

Her father had thought the change of scenery would do good for Beth after that evening she came home. That evening she had asked her father if he could help little Judith, who was desperately in need for help. It took her some convincing to let him do that, her mother hadn’t been easy about it either. But her father wasn’t born as noble and let Daryl escort him towards Rue des Francs-Bourgeois.

Beth could barely sleep that night, the night terrors attacked her mind, pestering her with the memory of people attacking each other over a little flour. Her heart also yearned out towards the young girl and listened for the sounds of the door, the sign her father got home. As morning came, Beth asked her father how Judith was. He told her everything would be fine with a gentle smile on his face, reassuring the young woman.

That next day, her mother had ordered the servants to load up the travel carriage so they could leave towards Poissy. _She meant well_ , Beth reminds herself. _I just can’t forget what I saw_.

“I hate to see it,” she heard Maggie say, raising out of the chair and plopped unlady like next to Beth on the bed.

Beth nodded, a sad smile grew on her face as tears welled up in the corners. “Me too.”

Maggie moved closer and hugged the distressed blonde, clearly seeing the memories in her eyes. “It’ll be alright,” she whispered, rubbing Beth’s back softly.

“You know, Annette secretly cares about those people,” Maggie gave a quick nod into the direction of the village after pulling away from the hug. “It’s just… Her reputation is more important to her.”

“I know,” Beth sighed. Her mother’s reputation had been damaged a bit back when she remarried to her father. The fact that she remarried barely dented it, she was a widow after all. But the fact that she had married a man of lower class. It took her mother a lot of convincing before her parents allowed the marriage. Her family’s reputation fell down a lot, but it turned out that her father was a skilled doctor and that did good things again after he saved a baron at a party once.

Beth looked at her fingernails, they were slightly damaged, she noted. She rubbed her nose. “I wish they had food, so they wouldn’t starve.”

“To make you feel a little better,” Maggie started, shifting her position. “I bought a couple of kids a baguette.”

Beth smiled. “I would have done the same.”

“I know you would,” Maggie laughed.

Beth dug her thumbnail under the nail of her pointer finger, scraping a little dirt from underneath them.

“Now let’s talk about something different,” Maggie smiled and stood up and walked towards the window. Beth followed her suit and stood next to her sister, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. She shouldn’t care about strangers, her grandmother would say. _You’re above them_ , the elder’s words rang in her head.

“Those frogs annoy me,” Maggie pointed at the creak across the summerhouse, a loud croaking emerging from the waters. “Especially at night.”

Beth giggled. “Well my room is at the other side of the house, I’m not bothered with it.”

\--

Poissy, July 1789

A couple weeks of drought later, thunderstorms rolled over the lands of Poissy. It’s now almost mid-July now and Beth starts to feel better. Still, the empty eyes of beggars and peasants haunted her mind. Sometimes, she thinks they’re in front of the summerhouse. But there isn’t screaming, there are no marching footsteps. It’s all in her mind. At least that’s what her father said and Beth believed his words.

The nightmares didn’t stop.

Beth was deep in thoughts during dinner, barely touching her plate. Outside thunder was heard far away, but it didn’t rain. The frogs were silent, the birds didn’t chirp. There was only silence besides the rumble of the storms.

A couple days ago the Bastille has been attacked and taken over by the peasants. A couple days ago her mother was furious at the king, how could he let that happen? Her mother believed strong in the king and supported him and whatever action.

Beth pushed her plate away, she’s not hungry. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be, sweetheart,” her father reassured, gently pricking a carrot on his fork. “Everything will be fine.”

“You heard what Elise said, papa,” Beth breath hitched and her voice pitched. “There is a revolution! Against us!”

“Bethany, please calm down,” her mother pleaded, waving one hand downwards trying to shush her daughter. “There is no need to panic, the king will take care of this problem.”

“Haven’t you seen the people, Maman?” Maggie started, pushing her plate forward as well, signing she, too, had enough. “Haven’t you seen their hateful stares? They have been doing that since we got here.”

While they were arguing at the dinner table, Hershel placed down his fork and looked at the doorway. Elise, one of the maidservants, stood in the entranceway. Her lips were pressed in a thin lips and her eyebrows squeezed in concern, fear in her eyes.

Hershel shushed his wife, who made a passionate speech about the king and turned towards the mousy girl in the doorpost. “What’s wrong, child.”

“The villagers, monsieur,” the words slipped over her pale pink lips as she fumbled her dress skirt in her hand nervously. “They’re in front of the gate. Begging for food.”

 

Beth paled at those words and pushed herself away from the dinner table, gathered her skirt and ran towards the staircase. Her heart pounded in her heart as she reached her father’s study –the room with the windows facing the front of the decorative farmhouse. She looked past the wall and saw them, this time so positive that it wasn’t her imagination. Though she wished it was. She couldn’t breathe, fear had captivated her.

Beth wanted to cry, her nightmare had come true. The stamping feet on the ground, the begging and yelling, the worn faces of her mother’s workers. They were so skinny! Beth fell on her knees, her legs were too weak to hold her up. She tried to think about something else, something that wasn’t about the misery of the peasants. But she failed at that, the only thing she could remember was the image of the boy she caught poaching in the woods a couple weeks ago.

_It was early in the morning, the sun just above the horizon_ , _cascading the sky in an orange hue. Beth had trouble sleeping and woke up from a nightmare, the same as usual.  After dressing, she silently walked down the stairs, through the house to the stables._

_“Bonjour,” she greeted the stable boy who was feeding one of her family’s horses. The young man, a little older than Beth, greeted back with a smile, appreciating the youngest de Billancourt daughter’s kindness._

_“How’s Félicie?” Beth asked the man, walking past the stables petting some of the horses that greeted her by poking their heads out of the box._

_“Wonderful! She has grown in a beautiful mare since you left last year,” he replied with a proud smile._

_Last year Beth her favourite horse died of old age and she was in tears. Her father had gone to the market with her later that week. It took Hershel a while, but he managed to drag the hormonal teenager to the farm of the family Allard, one of their richest farmers and host of the horse market. Hershel let this youngest daughter walk around and pick out a horse. Beth, still mourning Edith, was moping around until her eyes fell on a light brownish red furred foal –just old enough to be bought. She fell instantly in love with the animal and with newfound happiness, the seventeen year old asked her daddy to buy the foal. And he did and while at the market Beth named the foal Félicie, meaning happiness. Beth took care of the foal for the remaining month they stayed in Poissy._

_Beth walked to the stable in the corner, tracing the name that was embedded in the wood of the door. The head of the reddish-brown horse poked out of the stable. Beth smiled and caressed the nose of the mare. “Hey girl.”_

_She turned to the stable boy and gave him a grateful smile. “She’s beautiful, thank you so much for taking care of her.”_

_The young man saddled the horse as Beth happily petted her horse, waiting for the servant to finish. It didn’t take the stable boy long to saddle the horse for her –he had done it many times before after all. With help from the young man, Beth managed to mount the mare._

_“Tell my parents I’ve gone riding,” Beth smiled and nudged to horse to move forwards._

_“Yes, mademoiselle.”_

_When she was outside, smelling the sweetness of the early summer morning, she smiled at the peacefulness. She loved Poissy, no noisy streets, no mass crowds, just her and the trees. Maybe she can go to the village, buy a croissant for breakfast. She passed the woods as she took the dirt path to the small town. A small breeze rustled the leafs of the tree, the sound mixed with the calm pace of hooves clacking on the dirt path were relaxing and Beth sang a soft song._

_Though the next thing she heard didn’t mix in with the relaxing sound. The leafs of the bush were rustling, but not calmly. Beth stopped her horse and mounted off. She tied the reins of the mare to the tree and entered the woods and bumped into someone. The person –a teenage boy, gave out a started yelp and fell backwards on the ground, quickly trying to hide whatever he was holding in his hands._

_“I’m so sorry, mademoiselle,” the boy stammered out, fear in his eyes. “I didn’t see you there.”_

_Beth looked at the boy, he was just a child, not older than fourteen at least her eyes trailed down to look at the object in the boy’s hands. A rabbit. A dead rabbit._

_The boy had followed her gaze and looked back up in her eyes, fear present in his. “Please don’t tell your mother! My family, we’re starving!”_

_Beth looked at the boy and noticed how skinny he is. Beth frowned in concern at the child. “I won’t tell her, don’t worry. But you have to know this isn’t save, if someone sees you doing this, they will hang you.”_

_“I know what will happen, mademoiselle,” the brown eyes of the boy darkened with a foul memory. “I just want to feed my family.”_

_Beth nodded at the boy and frowned, she knew this child. “You’re Elliot, right? Second son of farmer Cornett.” The child nodded._

_“How’s your family?” Beth asks kindly, plucking a leaf from a bush and started toying with it._

_“My mother died last winter. Dad isn’t doing well, my little sister is trying to make food of whatever we have. Nicholas is working hard on the fields, trying to get as much money as we can scrape together. But we’re just starving.”_

_Her heart clenched together, she had heard about the terrible winter that haunted the lands of France last year, she had heard about the fallen ones. The boy continued talking. “Maman, she… it was so cold and she was skin and bones… She didn’t have the energy to survive.” The boy started crying._

_Beth helped the boy up, looking at him kindly and pulled him in a hug, she can’t image losing her mother. Especially to such a horrible fate, slowly starving to your death._

_Beth kindly pulled away and smiled. “You have to be more careful and take a bag next time to hide your catch. We don’t want the guards to see you were poaching.”_

_The boy nodded and smiled, wiping his tears away. “You were always the kindest, mademoiselle.” The boy sniffed and looked at her with big brown eyes. “Can I ask you something?”_

_“Sure,” Beth dropped the creased and tattered leaf and tilted her head to the right._

_“Have you ever felt hunger? Not like the kind you just skip a meal, but real paining hunger that won’t stop,” the boy asked her with all seriousness. “Have you, mademoiselle?”_

_Beth frowned at the boy’s words, thinking about how she once skipped breakfast and that time her mother send her to bed without dinner because she didn’t behave. She remembered the gnawing in her stomach and always thought that was hunger. She shook her head. “No, I never have been hungry.” And as she spoke out each word of that sentence, guilt washed over her. She never has been hungry in her whole life._

_“I’m sorry,” she whispered and left the boy on his own._

Beth sucked in a breath. _Have you ever felt real hunger?_ The boy’s words haunted her mind. _Have you ever felt real hunger?_ Stop it. Stop it. She begged her mind. _Have you ever felt real hunger?_ Please... The shouting outside seemed louder and louder and Beth covered her ears trying to block out the sound.

Before she knew it she felt hands on her shoulder. Amy’s hands. The young woman had knelt in front of her and looked at her worried. “It’s okay, mademoiselle. Your mother gave permission to give them the leftovers from the kitchen. They’ll go away.”

_Have you ever felt real hunger?_ The boy’s voice thundered over Amy’s voice. _Have you mademoiselle?_

Beth cried in her hands. She wanted it to stop. The beggars, the revolution, the chanting, the voice. Everything. _Please, please! Go away,_ she begged them in her head, ignoring the fact that a lady never begs. _Stop_?

_Have you, mademoiselle?_

The voices outside were gone, the people went on with the little food they received from the kitchen. But the boy and his tired, aged brown eyes still haunted her mind.

_Have you, mademoiselle..?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Tell me what you think, I would love to hear your thoughts about it.
> 
> I tried to be more descriptive, but I'm not really much of a writer... I'm an artist, I draw a lot more than I write.

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't going to include Daryl until around a couple chapter later but I wanted him to meet Beth already. Originally I was going to introduce him in 1792, three years after this chapter.
> 
> Uhm, for Beth her last name not being Greene has a reason, Hershel is an immigrant from Ireland who married Annette and to keep it sophisticated Annette her parents insisted in using de Billancourt as surname instead of Greene. Eh, doesn't make much sense, but it works.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Tell me what you think, I would love to hear your thoughts about it.


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